Good Buys Fare Well; Abecedarian Rhyme with Little Reason.

Keyboard Stand R100; Slide Projector R50; 3XDeodorant R15; CDs  Helmut Lotti, Tschaikowsky Piano Concerto 1 & 1812, The Drifters ‘True Love’ R5 each; total R180 ($12.80).

As good buys at our local flea market last weekend before the goodbyes that followed, I found the loot pictured above. The most expensive item was the keyboard stand for my second keyboard and towards my tutor on keyboards currently nearing completion. The slide projector was found to be in perfect working order, and as a project for Durban and Coast Horticultural Society, I now have hundreds of slides to go through from the effects of the late Vernon Rippon, a horticultural legend locally. My own projector refuses to advance slides, so this was a godsend.

GloPoWriMo 2019 Day 19

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write an abecedarian poem – a poem in which the word choice follows the words/order of the alphabet. You could write a very strict abecedarian poem, in which there are twenty-six words in alphabetical order, or you could write one in which each line begins with a word that follows the order of the alphabet.

A big challenge demands effectively finding

Great heights, in just kindred letters minding;

Never order passing; queerest rows see —

To understand very well, x your zee!

(I chose the lazy economy version. Yes, x is a dictionary verb meaning to cross out, and zee is the North American word for zed.) 

© April 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Challenge, Colonialist, Durban and Coast Horticultural Society, GloPoWriMo, Really Awful Rhyme, Rhyme | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

Elegy for an Unidentified Companion

GloPoWriMo Day 18 Prompt: today: I’d like to challenge you to write an elegy of your own, one in which the abstraction of sadness is communicated not through abstract words, but physical detail.

From recent wanderings.

Out of the very corner of my eye,
I see that little shape that follows me,
I feel the touch against me by and bye
When up in dark of night so sleeplessly;
I hear the friendly greetings of that little friend
As I come back from where I chance to roam,
Or, sense that presence closely round a bend,
Wandering, but not that far from home,
Then, still I feel those little eyes that dwell
On each and every move that I may make,
That lovely eagerness for me to tell
In company what pleasure I do take,
The cocking of the head whenever spoken to,
The promptitude with which calls get response,
All sights, sounds, feelings, and each touch anew,
The spaces where that body would ensconce;
With all such strong reminders that arise each day
How can I feel that all these things have gone away?

© April 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Africa, Challenge, GloPoWriMo, pets, Poems, Rhyme | Tagged , , | 9 Comments

The Dreadit Edit

GloPoWriMo Day 17 Prompt is as follows:

Today, I’d like you to challenge you to write a poem that presents a scene from an unusual point of view:

I am a book that has been done
And dusted; I would say,
That I am now a perfect one
In every sort of way!
But editor comes on the scene
To chop me into bits,
How can he be so downright mean
By going into fits,
And criticising missing stops
Or just too many starts,
Or spellings that he claims, there, flops,
Or rather rambling parts?
My prose is matchless; he agrees —
The nasty little blighter —
And says that when I’m burnt, to please
Employ a good gas lighter!
It seems that he decrees that I
Should see no publication,
By listing all degrees whereby
I merit conflagration;
I will not go to heaven, for
That’s not what he’s suggesting,
Reincarnation of my score
Report is manifesting!

As it happens, I have been editing a really wonderful proof all day, and the subject thereof is in no danger of this fate whatsoever.

© April 2019 Colonialist 
Posted in Editing, GloPoWriMo, Humorous rhyme, Personal Journal, Really Awful Rhyme, verse | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Wild Words and Feral Tamed.

For GloPoWriMo Day 16 I am ignoring the prompt, and instead am taking  Wordle 399 as the rhyme of the day. Brenda has done the usual fiendish job of steering one inexorably in a certain direction with the choice of words, but then throwing in one or two that refuse to fit. I have done my best with them. With our collection of ferals, I should have been able to succeed somehow!

Our latest feral posed obligingly for all of half a second.





Worms in stool of feral cat
In our car boot we had trapped;
Birds endangered, and so that
Bait with sugar words enwrapped,
Brought to mansion; now on maple floor,
Off hook: vetted, tamed, and waits at door.

© April 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Cats, Challenge, GloPoWriMo, Poems, Really Awful Rhyme, Rhyme, Wordle | Tagged , , , , | 11 Comments

Talk of Writing Wrongs

GloMoWriMo Day 15 Prompt is as follows:

‘Today, I’d like to challenge you to write your own dramatic monologue.’

I write; but when I write then should I yearn
For all to like what I set out? And if they spurn
My words, then should I be most vexed,
Or maybe, just a little bit perplexed?
For that which flows so freely from my heart
Transcribed with many a hesitant stop and start,
Is much a part of me that I lay bare;
Then how can I respond without a care
To cold receptions of these phrases which
So much have cost, and with so many a hitch;
How can it be that I do not lament
The non-appreciation of such testament?
Must I in sorry mourning slink away,
Or yet, instead, in proud defiance stay,
To rage at all the ignorance of fools
Who don’t appreciate my written jewels?


This poem is purely for dramatic effect, and does not reflect any sudden sad disillusionment at reception of my novels.

The trip to the airport was undertaken with a car the headlight and front panels of which I had fixed or secured with sticky tape. Replacement parts have been ordered and should be fitted soon.

In fact, Elder daughter, who departed today with a tearful scene at the airport. had given a much-valued complimentary assessment and helpful suggestions for incorporation in the next print of Darx Circle. A ‘fewer’ for ‘less’ substitution, and a missing ‘to’ were among her contributions, as well as a suggestion that near the beginning it would go down better these days to avoid saying someone deserved a spanking. She originally echoed the words of my editor in suggesting that one early scene be cut or abridged, but after finishing the book said she realised the purpose it had served and agreed that it was a necessary part of the development.

© April 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Africa, Book Reviews, Books, Daughters, GloPoWriMo, Poems, Rhyme | Tagged , , | 14 Comments

The Caws of Understanding Crows on You

GloMoWriMo Day 14 Prompt is as follows:

Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that incorporates homophones, homographs, and homonyms, or otherwise makes productive use of English’s ridiculously complex spelling rules and opportunities for mis-hearings and mis-readings.

To write the right rite to the right,
In fullest sight upon the site,
But making sure to left is left
The valiant knight by day or night —
A mighty mite that one day might
Make use of clef to cleft a cleft.

To like to liken lichen to
A grass that is by two too few;
A lie to lie to side of truths
When sighed with feuding for one’s food,
Mooed like cowed cow in hungry mood;
Bear like bare bears bear fruiths.

Final full day of daughter’s visit, and Chanticler and 1000 Hills were among the places visited.

© April 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Africa, Colonialist, verse, writing, music composition, fantasy, Africa, journal., Daughters, Excursions, GloPoWriMo, Nonsense verse, Really Awful Rhyme | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

The Bridge That Wasn’t

GloMoWriMo Day 13 Prompt is as follows:

‘Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem about something mysterious and spooky! Your poem could be about something that is mysterious and spooky in a bad way (like a witch), or mysterious and spooky in a good way (possibly also like a witch? It depends on the witch, I guess!) Or just the everyday, mysterious, spooky quality of being alive.

My response is to relate, in rhyme, a true story from my early days of courtship:

The Phantom Bridge

One day a lot of years ago
Girlfriend and I to river went,
And had a picnic there, you know,
Until the day was nearly spent.

My German Shepherd also came
To that old and deserted farm,
Joined freely in each little game,
For, there, could come to little harm.

We made a fire and cooked our meat,
While darkness we all slowly knew,
When suddenly, from warm retreat,
The atmosphere to alien grew.

I looked to river: saw a sight
That sent some shivers down my spine:
Something was crossing there that night,
That caused, from dog, a little whine.

I could this thing not clearly see;
As if through corner’f eye came through;
And then my girlfriend said to me
With trembling voice, ‘D’you see it, too?’

The dog was clearly petrified,
And we decided then to leave,
All car doors were now open wide,
As if departure to receive!

Dog on her lap the whole way back,
A-tremble; we were glad to get
To city lights; before, the lack
Was something we had wanted met.

But, over weeks we then discussed;
Decided the whole thing had been
Imagination, and we’d fussed
Smoke into something awful seen.

Her dad knew that whole area well,
One day she asked, quite casually,
If, on that bend, he could her tell,
There once had been a bridge to see?

‘That haunted farm? Tragic, my dear,
For all the dwellers met their end;
No bridge as such crossed there, but weir
Once spanned the river on that bend.’

© April 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Africa, Colonialist, verse, writing, music composition, fantasy, Africa, journal., Dogs, Excursions, Gardens, GloPoWriMo, Poems, Rhyme | Tagged , , | 15 Comments